


in tradition with the family plan

by thegoodlannister



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Diego Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Difficult Decisions, Family Issues, Gen, Good Brother Diego Hargreeves, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Klaus Hargreeves Deserves Better, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Klaus Hargreeves Needs Help, Pre-Canon, Protective Diego Hargreeves, Sex Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-15 05:01:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18491881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegoodlannister/pseuds/thegoodlannister
Summary: hot summer nights and car rides set during the time period between diego and klaus leaving the academy and the beginning of the television series.





	in tradition with the family plan

**Author's Note:**

> the sex work warned for is only alluded to briefly, in diego's thoughts.

Late summer, dog days - almost the end of August - and through the windshield of his beat-up Chevy, the streetlights are diffused and hazy in the afterglow of the day. They’re past the longest stretching part of the year now; the days are getting shorter, but it’s not yet noticeable.

There’s still another thirty minutes or so left of dusk as Diego pulls up beside the 7-Eleven; in the street, a handful of kids part to let him through, then reconvene, passing a basketball around, arching over the roof of his car. The sight makes his fingers itch. There’s just enough of a memory there to get his brain firing signals to his muscles; he was introduced to different sports as a kid, basketball among them, though he’d never played on a team. It was always just him and his siblings, in their dad’s idea of a physical education class, which also included racing up and down the stairs of their home until his lungs and legs burned, and letting Luther twist his arm around his back in a way that made Diego’s shoulder feel like it was about to pop out of the socket.

(It had only actually happened once.)

There’s sweat on Diego’s upper lip as he drags his hand over his face. The Chevy’s air conditioner gave out sometime last year, and he hasn’t had the money to take it in, so he’s resigned himself to the way the bare skin of his arm sticks to any part of the seat he allows it to touch.

He recognizes the man leaving the convenience store, the one who had just a second ago leaned over the counter to buy a pack of cigarettes and one of those little pre-made pies, the kind covered in a wax-glaze that leaves your tongue feeling coated. It’s strawberry. Diego drums his fingers on the steering wheel.

“Hey.”

Klaus cuffs him on the shoulder as he climbs into the backseat. It’s all the introduction he makes, other than a quick, tight smile and the squeak of faux-leather seats. In the rear view mirror, Diego watches as Klaus pockets his treasures, smoothes his hands over his thighs. His knuckles are scraped and the humidity has his hair curling over his ears. Even from here, Diego can see it’s filthy; the sweat dripping from Klaus’ forehead leaves tracks in the accumulated grime on his face, days of makeup he’s reapplied over the old stuff he never bothered to remove. His cheeks are flushed - sunburn over weeks old sunburn - and when Diego lets his eyes slide back to the windshield, putting the car in drive, Klaus shakes himself once, like a dog, head to toe. 

“Thanks.”

Diego huffs. “Like I had a choice.” But in return he’s faced with Klaus pulling his knee up to his chest, the way he does when he’s feeling unsure, all booty shorts and skinned knees. It’s true, his scuffed up knees are as knobby as ever and  _goddamn_  he can practically see all the way up to Klaus’ asshole when he rocks forward like that and yeah, okay, Diego’s not naive enough anymore to still think his brother got the skinned knees the same way he fucked up his knuckles.

Klaus makes him feel guilty, just by existing, and before long, he tacks on, “You gave me those goddamn puppy dog eyes.”

Klaus smells like he’s been pickled in liquor, like stale sweat and the oil in his hair and a little like incense, which he always does. Always has. The smell fills the car, but on him, it isn’t a  _bad_  smell, and with the window open, now that they’re on the road, it’s almost cool enough to feel comfortable for the first time all day. Soaking in the breeze on his face, Diego reaches across for the handle and rolls the one on the passenger side down too. When he turns the radio on, Radiohead starts up - they both liked them, once, so he lets it ride.

“Yeah, what can I say? You’re not the first guy that’s worked on,” Klaus laughs, like it’s a joke even though Diego knows he means every word, his eyes fluttering closed. He sounds tired. 

Usually, Diego can’t get Klaus to shut up when they’re together, but tonight he lapses into silence, letting his head fall back against the seat. His adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, like he can’t work up enough spit and he coughs lightly in the back of his throat. Dry mouth, Diego thinks. That’s a druggie thing, right?

“You drinking enough water?” he asks before he can stop himself. “It’s hot as hell out there. That shit can be dangerous.” As if they hadn’t done survival training together. As if sleeping who the fuck knows where and getting on his knees in an alley for who the fuck knows what kind of people in exchange for a handful of pills and a quick trip isn’t. But there’s fuck-all he can do about that, so he rummages under his seat until he comes up with a dented Evian bottle.

The bottle bounces off the seat next to Klaus when Diego tosses it back to him, but he doesn’t open his eyes as it rolls across the floor to rest against the side of his foot. “Vodka count?” he mumbles. Then, flapping a hand dismissively, “Shut up, Ben. That was too a funny one. Also, Di? You came like  _this_ close to smacking Ben in the balls back here.” 

Diego can’t help it - he snorts, shaking his head as he drives. He both hates and loves how easily Klaus can always make him smile. “Tell him I apologize.”

In response there’s a long, drawn-out sigh. “Jesus, Diego, do you still have  _no_  idea how this whole ghost thing works?” Klaus smacks his lips as he rolls his head lazily so he’s addressing the empty space beside him. “Ben can hear you, can’t you, bro?” 

Again, Diego snorts. “Of course he can.” 

_Of course he can._

Klaus’ eyes are closing again before the words are all the way out, so Diego pumps the brakes, hard enough to make him flinch, and when he blinks them open again - watery and with pupils blown so wide there’s no question he’s high off his ass, as if there was ever any question with Klaus nowadays - Diego meets his unfocused gaze in the rear view mirror. Tilts his head to indicate the bottle on the floor.

“Drink.”

“Bossy, bossy.” Klaus gives him the middle finger, and Diego takes his hand off the wheel long enough to return the gesture. After that, it takes a bit of fumbling before the bottle is in Klaus’ hand, tipping toward Diego in the suggestion of a toast. Klaus is so out of it that there’s a dangerous moment when Diego worries he’s going to spill more than he drinks, but then Klaus has the cap off and is gulping down half the bottle in one long swallow.

As soon as his mouth is empty, Klaus grimaces. “ _Ewwww,_ it was warm.” But wheedling as his voice is, he goes back to finish the bottle almost immediately, water dripping down his chin as he drinks. 

“Yeah, what did you expect? It was under my seat for a week and a half.” Diego is still half-smiling into the twilight when he answers. “You can thank me later.” 

As the last of the orange sun fades from the sky, Klaus slides down to prop one foot up on the open window, next to Diego’s shoulder, close enough to tap him with his toes along with the music. The heel of the other foot digs into Diego’s back when Klaus plants it halfway up the back of his seat. He’s not wearing socks, Diego notices - probably still too hot now - and the sides of his converse are threadbare, the delicate pink of his bare foot peaking through.

In a few weeks the heat will break. Diego looks forward to that. Then, there’ll be the cool arrival of fall interrupted by indian summer days. Then, when those have passed, the beginnings of winter. Before long, this smothering humidity will be a distant memory. People’ll be bitching about how much they miss it and Klaus will be sleeping in doorways to try and stay out of the cold, Diego can bet on that. It’s always the same, year in and year out. Some things you can always count on.

As he navigates onto the freeway, Diego’s shoulders hang heavy. He feels like he’s in suspended animation, him and Klaus. Like maybe they always have been, stuck between here and there and the places they’ll never go.

Goddamn, this heat is making him tired.

“Di?” It’s Klaus who breaks the silence, a few miles down the road, slurring.

“Yeah?” Diego looks in the rear view mirror to check on him, make sure he’s not too far gone. He knows what that looks like on Klaus, and this, thankfully, isn’t it.

“I’m just gonna close my eyes. Wake me up when we get there, 'kay?”

Diego swallows. “‘Kay,” he agrees, voice hitching, and drives for an hour straight, right past the exit Klaus had begged him for a ride to this morning and back around. Over and over, the radio on low and lightning bugs in the greenhouse air, with Klaus snoring and twitching in the backseat.

_~End._

**Author's Note:**

> if you've been following me here lately, you should know klaus hargreeves owns my heart. follow me over on tumblr for feelings (mostly of the klaus and diego variety) at thegoodlannister.


End file.
